


John Watson and the Satellite

by notimmortal



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, First Kiss, Fluff, Happy Ending, M/M, Pre-Season/Series 02, Song Lyrics, Wingfic, slight angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-27
Updated: 2015-09-27
Packaged: 2018-04-23 14:44:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4880794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notimmortal/pseuds/notimmortal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wing!Sherlock thinks about what it will be like if John finds out about his wings.</p><p>(Songfic including the lyrics to Cecilia and the Satellite by Andrew McMahon In The Wilderness)</p>
            </blockquote>





	John Watson and the Satellite

**Author's Note:**

> I've wanted to write this fic for the longest time. This song is just such a Johnlock song.

_I lock myself in a hotel room. Been waiting all night for the walls to move._

Sherlock’s wings were unfolded, stretching in the space behind him. It was a rarity that he got to have his wings out like this. Only his family knew of the wings, and probably some of Mycroft’s lackeys. Even John had no idea. Oh, how Sherlock wished he could tell John about his wings. But it wasn’t an option, John would think Sherlock was a monster. Everyone else would think him to be a monster, too. And perhaps he was.

 

_I loved some girls that I barely knew. I made some friends and I lost some, too._

Sherlock knew what could come from telling others about his wings. He would be alone, isolated and afraid, far away from the people he knew and the work he loved. He didn’t know what would be worse, losing the work or losing John.

 

John Watson was Sherlock’s best friend. For the longest time, John was Sherlock’s only friend. Imaging a world without John Watson in it was Sherlock’s personal nightmare. John made Sherlock feel human. He made Sherlock forget the monster he truly was.

 

_Crashed my car I was seventeen. My mother in the seat riding next to me. The things I’ve learned from a broken mirror. How a face can change when a heart knows fear._

Sherlock looked at his reflection. His wings, dark brown with hints of amber in certain lights, didn’t look as monstrous as they once had to him. The looked light, the feathers moving as a breeze blew through the flat. If he weren’t the only person with wings upon his back, Sherlock may actually think they were beautiful. But all they did was make him more of a freak than he already was. They would be the thing that would make John leave one day, Sherlock could tell from the moment John entered his life.

 

Sherlock punched the mirror.

 

_Through all the things my eyes have seen, the best by far is you._

“Sherlock?” a voice called. _John._ “What was that?”

 

“Just some broken glass, John. Nothing to worry about,” Sherlock said as he hastily folded his wings back up, making them lay flat against his back. He then threw on his robe and awaited the inevitable arrival of John at the door.

 

“Sher- Jesus Christ, Sherlock, what happened to your hand?” Sherlock looked down at his hand to see blood pouring out in a steady stream. His gaze began to drift back to the mirror, which John noticed after a moment. “Right. Why did you punch the mirror?”

 

Sherlock locked gazes with himself in the mirror. “It was tormenting me.”

 

_If I could fly, then I would know what life looks like from up above and down below._

John sighed, knowing he wasn’t going to get any more out of the detective. “Right. Well, let’s get you patched up then. Wouldn’t want you to bleed out.”

 

Sherlock followed John out of his room and into the bathroom. John pointed to the toilet, mumbling out “Sit” before going to fetch his medical kit. Sherlock did as he was told, examining the blood coming from his hand. How he wished he could tell John the real reason for punching the mirror. But John meant too much to him to do so.

 

_I’d keep you safe. I’d keep you dry. Don’t be afraid, Cecilia, I’m the satellite._

_And you’re the sky._

“You can’t just destroy things you get mad at, Sherlock,” John said as he walked back into the bathroom. “You could damage something important. Like your hand, for instance.”

 

“My hand isn’t that important. And besides, you seem to be capable of fixing it.”

 

“What if I’m not around to do so, Sherlock? Then what?”

 

John’s words made Sherlock’s blood run cold. He knew John didn’t mean it in a mean way, but it still stung. John was everything to Sherlock, but one day Sherlock would be nothing to John. Sherlock felt his wings instinctively move closer to his body, trying to protect him.

 

“Then I bleed out in a most unfortunate matter from not noticing it, obviously,” Sherlock said, voice shaking slightly. He tried to keep himself composed, but it was becoming difficult to.

 

_I’ve café crawled through Amsterdam. Been around the world with a punk rock band. I’ve seen London and I’ve played Japan. Been knocked down and I got up again._

John chuckled. “How did you survive before me?”

 

“I talked to a skull, mostly, and hoped Lestrade or Mrs. Hudson would notice if I happened to be bleeding. Mycroft stepped in if things got too bad,” Sherlock stated matter-of-factly.

 

“So, basically, you didn’t survive before me.”

 

“No, I suppose I didn’t,” Sherlock said softly. Before John, he hid in his home with is wings and his brain, talking to the skull because the skull was the only one that would listen. He still kept his wings folded most of the time, always cautious. But John was right, Sherlock wasn’t really living without John.

 

_For all the places I have been, I’m no place without you._

“It’s a good thing I’m here now, then. Glad to know I’m needed.”

 

Sherlock wanted to scream at John, say that he will always be needed. But Sherlock couldn’t do that. He could never deny John a way to leave, a way to have a real life, no matter how much he wanted to. Perhaps he would just show John the wings. Make him leave now before something else drove him away later. Sherlock’s heart panged and wings ruffled.

 

_If I could fly, then I would know what life looks like from up above and down below. I’d keep you safe. I’d keep you dry. Don’t be afraid, Cecilia, I’m the satellite. And you’re the sky._

John finished wrapping the gauze around Sherlock’s hand and began to pull away. Sherlock, without thinking first, grabbed it.

 

“John. I need to show you something. And this may change how you see me, it may drive you away, but you deserve to know, John. You deserve to see,” Sherlock’s voice grew more frantic with each word.

 

“You’re scaring me, Sherlock. Is everything okay?”

 

“Not at all, John. But I’d rather you find out now than have you find out later,” At least now, the environment was controlled. They were both comfortable. Sherlock knew he had to show John. He just knew it.

 

“Sherlock…”

 

Instead of saying anything, Sherlock just removed his robe and allowed his wings to unfurl. Sherlock closed his eyes, not willing to see the horrified look on John’s face. He willed the moment to end soon.

 

What Sherlock didn’t expect was to feel a hand softly stroking his wings. Sherlock opened his eyes to see a look of awe upon John’s face. “Sherlock, you mad man, you thought these would make me leave?”

 

“I’m aware that wings are… unnatural. Many people would believe me to be a monster, a freak. A mistake of nature.”

 

“You aren’t a monster, Sherlock,” John said, pulling Sherlock into his arms. Sherlock’s wings folded around both of them, cocooning them in feathers and warmth.

 

_For all the things my hand have held, the best by far is you._

 

Sherlock pulls away from John slightly, making sure their gazes met. “I was willing to show you, believing you’d leave. I don’t know what I’d do without you, but I know I have to let you go at some point.”

 

“Sherlock, I would never leave you. I don’t care what you think about yourself, I think you are fantastic. These,” John touches the wings gently, “Just make you more unique. You’re amazing, Sherlock. Absolutely amazing.”

 

_If I could fly, then I would know what life looks like from up above and down below. I’d keep you safe. I’d keep you dry. Don’t be afraid, Cecilia, I’m the satellite._

“You are the amazing one, John. You make me better, make me human. You’ve given a heart to the man everyone believed didn’t have one.”

 

“I’m just John. I’m nothing special, not like you.”

 

“I disagree. I am simply a satellite. You, John Watson, you are the sky.”

 

_And you’re the sky._

 

John smiled at Sherlock, cupping his face in his hand. Sherlock’s wings, still wrapped around them, drew closer. As they did this, John leaned in to place a gentle kiss on Sherlock’s lips. Sherlock pulled John closer to him, allowing the wings to surround them completely.

 

_I’m the satellite. And you’re the sky._

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not sure how I felt about the ending. I hope you enjoyed this nonetheless. Thank you for reading ^-^


End file.
